DS9/A04 - Quark's Bar, Grill, Gaming House and Holosuite Arcade

[Jennifer Braggins]

==

[Lucy Devereaux]

Lucy was well through the better part of her burger when she remembered that Aeryn had said something about a Command Certification Test ahead.  That was a epic step up. Even getting recommended for something like that was a confirmation that somebody thought you had concrete potential. The test itself always varied. Tailored specifically to the officer taking the test. It wasn’t one of those standard tests.

“Congratulations on the Command Test. Definitely best of luck.”

Not a pleasant shore leave, but it was the right timing for it. It was going to be a packed shore leave for Aeryn. Lucy didn’t feel she was there yet. She was feeling a little more comfortable in herself, but she needed more time before she felt like she could be a Senior Officer. She was looking forward to feeling like a relatively competent Junior Officer. Of course it would take some effort on her part.

== tag ==

[Aeryn Miller]

Aeryn's attention was momentarily diverted to the arrival of the snacks and drinks that she had ordered, thanking the waiter before noticing that Coleman had since left the bar. Making a mental note to catch up with her friend later, and find out what had gone on from his perspective, the security chief then refocused on those sitting at her table. Being around those from her own crew felt familiar with the redhead and, hopefully, it would continue to be the distraction that she needed, at least for tonight.

When Lucy then decided to touch on the subject of her command test, Aeryn appreciated the science officer's well wishes. Although she had since come to terms with how to deal with the nerves that surrounded the thought of what the outcome might be, and until it happened, she was going to do her best.

" Thanks, I appreciate it" Aeryn replied, hoping that they could now talk about other things rather than have the spotlight remain on her. Helping herself to an onion ring, Aeryn then spoke again.

" So how is everyone liking DS9?".

== Tags all ==

[Lucy Devereaux]

Aeryn definitely did want to dwell on the upcoming test and Lucy couldn’t blame her. She hated exams and practical exams always held a special terror. Aeryn went with enquiring about peoples thoughts on Deep Space Nine. It was hub. A good place to kick off the shoes between missions. Butting heads with the Obsidian Order could get complicated. The fact that they started it might only be a mitigating factor.

“Nice place to visit. Not sure I could hack being in one place for too long. The Promenade and the businesses are cool and all, but I could see myself going in circles after too long. Half wishing I’d bugged out planetside with Calleja. Hiking, mountaineering, or even going on a rock hunt. Been hoping to rebuild my rock collection, within reason. The food and drink definitely hits the spot.”

It was a little odd that Jay hadn’t reached for a fry, but it likely wasn’t something she was familiar with. Lucy didn’t have a clue about Cardassian food. A learning curve that would be interesting to fill in. Getting to know fellow crewmembers is always a great help. A little cohesion is always good for the crew.

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

Braggins had been interrogated, most of the Philadelphia crew had been reassigned, the ship itself had been recalled for lengthy inspection, and those from her crew that remained were restricted to Deep Space Nine and the planet it stood guard near: Bajor. Known for its scenic landscapes and deep religious beliefs, the one thing the planet definitely did not have was a good Klingon bar. DS9 had a Klingon shop, and it had a bar, and the two of them would have to do to suit Artie’s needs. 

To those who did not know her, it was probably quite a shock to see a thin, Klingon woman in a bright yellow sundress walk into any place of casual establishment. She wasn’t in what one might call a perfect mood, still scowling at only knowing that she was still in Starfleet. She didn’t yet know whether she’d still hold her Chief of Security moniker, whether she’d still be allowed in Security, or whether Command would just bust her down to holodeck maintenance crew. The idea of the latter made her gag.

“Oh, just give me a warnog.” Art said, already exasperated with herself. She glanced around to see if she saw any familiar faces, or any faces that wanted to look familiar. She had to get this pent-up tension out of her system somehow, and conversation was just one of those methods.


==Open taggities!==

[Kal-Geal Beinn]

Kal-Geal finally got out of his debriefing, which had gone rougher than he liked. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to ask if anyone else was wearing briefs, but that was the way things went. The Child of San-Tarah had been let out, but told not to go far. They had to contact the Klingons, and would try to get him shipped back to Qo'nos, since embarrassment over the rescue and the recommendation had made them reevaluate the exchange program in all likelihood.

The big white wolf in Klingon armor walked into the bar, probably shocking the observers even further, Deep Space Nine never had a Child of San-Tarah, and at least one Ferengi whimpered for animal control to arrive, before a stern word in Klingon silenced them. As he ordered a warnog as well, he looked around the room, and spied the other Klingon officer of Star Fleet in the room, and went over to the part of the bar she was at.

"I will never want to understand Ferengi. Such fearful little beings, with pointy teeth, and silly desires for strips of coin. Kind of feels like the officer I just finished talking to. So afraid of the Klingon Empire saving their people, that they want to lie and send me home. Anyways, what's got your fur ruffled there Lieutenant d'Tor'an?"

[Peter Jensen]

Peter made an exception this time. Normally he would not set foot in Quark's, because...well, it was one of the most potent symbols of the Ferengi culture that he loathed with a passion.
As high as his admiration was for those Ferengi who'd managed to break free from that, as low was his opinion of the culture itself.
Would Ferenginar one day take its place in the Federation Council? He hoped it. He doubted that either he, or his children, or his children's children's children would see that day.

But, then again, he would normally not have relieved his Captain of command, only to go back on that after having been shown the truth. He had just come from the "debriefing", and darn it if he didn't need an actual drink now.
He'd definitely played hardball, invoking his guaranteed right to counsel present during the interrogation, leaving his interrogators scrambling to find a suitable JAG-representative on short notice.
He had told them what they'd asked, and nothing more. When asked about why he hadn't arrested Braggins as ordered, he'd referred them to the orders she'd shown him coming direct from the Federation Council, and that he was acting on the best information he had. And that, given those circumstances, orders coming straight from the top outclassed orders given by a "mere" Captain, in this case Khumalo.

He knew he'd pushed it a bit at adding "mere" to Khumalo's rank, and he'd dialed his acerbic remarks down after that, but the end result was the same, and the gist of it was: I followed orders, just not Captain Khumalo's.
And he also felt pretty good by adding that his actions had helped in saving the lives of a lot of people Starfleet had given up as MIA.

In the end, he walked out a free man, with a slap on the wrist. He'd barely dared to hope for that outcome, but would gladly take it.
And now he definitely needed a drink. A real one.

He headed into the bar, and immediately scowled a bit as he saw the spectacle. Barely clothed Dabo girls, ridiculously overworked and underpaid waiters. It was a slap in the face of the dignity and humanitarianism - regardless of species - that he'd just risked his life, and his career, to defend. But it was outside of Federation jurisdiction, as the "embassy" of the Ferengi Alliance. Grand Nagus Rom wasn't as stupid as his detractors wanted to make him out to be, and he was definitely a family man. Peter didn't even want to think about how obscenely rich Quark had become from that particular decision.

But what it also was, was a popular gathering point of not just the station's residents, but a popular place to have shore leave. And so he was certain he would find some of the Philadelphia's crew out and about. Well, formerly Philadelphia.
It had been a bit of a heartbreak to learn that a fair bit of the crew would be scattered to the winds. But that was a regret to have later. For now, it was time to try to unwind a bit.

Qui bibit, dormit. Qui dormit, non peccat. Qui non peccat, sanctus est he thought with a bit of a chuckle, as he then spotted d'Tor'an and Beinn at the bar.

At least he spotted a couple of friendly faces. He smiled and headed over to d'Tor'an and Beinn.

"I'm pleased to see some hint of civilization in this place" he said with a big smile as he then looked over at the bartender and called for an ice cold Carlsberg, before looking back at them.

"How do you fare? Both of you?", he asked with mild concern in his voice.

== Tag! ==

[Theresa Black]

>> Promenade >>


On entering Quark's, the atmosphere physically changed. The air felt warmer. The smell, imperceptibly muskier. And the volume, certainly louder.

The head waiter almost pounced on Black as she entered. “One more shift. Hooman.” he said leering at her.

Black took him by the ear and firmly twisting him said. “No.” Then she looked over to Qi. “Don't ask.”

The indignant Ferengi soon scuttled off quickly when he heard the call of “Darbo!” across the room leaving the three of them to take in the scene further.

Papaver let go of Qi's arm, and said to Black; “I'll go talk to him. Sort things out. I'll catch up.” And she headed off after the Ferengi. Leaving Black and Qi alone.

Black scanned the room, and spotted the Commander sitting at the bar. With him was d'Tor'an, and... Bienn, was it?

Their half-Klingon security chief was easy to identify because of her simple but distinctive off duty style. The large wolf in Klingon armour was somewhat more distinctive, a wolf in heavy Klingon armour, but Black had had very little interaction with him since the end, so was struggling to recall much about him.

Either way, Black knew she hadn't been in the Commander's good books before the mission. And she wasn't too sure how he'd react to her approaching him now afterwards, but she did have someone with her who needed to see him.

He was already in conversation with the other two officers as they made their approach.

“Excuse me, Commander.” She said waiting for a natural break in the conversation. “I have Lieutenant Commander Qi, here. To speak with you.”

She waited for the Commander to respond.


== Tag Everyone ==

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

==Had coffee when I got home, so I’m still awake at 9:30 to post, finally!==


A compatriot walked into the bar; well, Art had never seen a San-Tarah in person before meeting Kal-Geal, but still, he counted. Recognizing kindred spirits however-many years ago, Klingons “conquered” the Children of the planet San-Tarah, and they became a minor part in Klingon culture. Seeing one was rare for a Klingon; Art suspected that serving with one was even more so.

The furry medic walked into Quark’s Bar in battle armor, for reasons Art couldn’t begin to guess. She gave him an inquiring look, and the facial expression invited him over.

“I will never want to understand Ferengi.” The great white wolf-like officer commented. “Such fearful little beings, with pointy teeth, and silly desires for strips of coin.”

Artie grinned in response, an outward push of air going through her nose just forcefully enough to make a small sound.

“Kind of feels like the officer I just finished talking to.” He continued. “So afraid of the Klingon Empire saving their people, that they want to lie and send me home. Anyways, what's got your fur ruffled there Lieutenant d'Tor'an?”

Art just raised her drink at him, taking a slug that showed the drink was weaker than one she would have rather had. “Oh, just this whole sit-around-and-wait-for-your-fate nonsense.” She told him. “I know I joined Starfleet, and I know I have superiors, but it’s so aggravating feeling like you’re not in charge of your own future.”

Even with her company wearing armor, Art felt comfortable sitting next to Beinn at the bar. She wasn’t one to believe in such things as “auras”, but you couldn’t deny that the man gave off a certain Klingon-esque “vibe.”

“I’m pleased to see some hint of civilization in this place.” The voice of Peter Jensen, their First Officer, came from behind both of them. Art turned to face him, unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic. She decided that since the man was rarely sarcastic, if ever, he was simply expressing his pleasure at seeing the two of them there.

After putting in an order to the bartender, who was still trying to stay away from the Klingon Empire citizens, he turned back to his shipmates. “How do you fare?” The FO asked. “Both of you?” He was concerned, and he let the tone of his voice show it.

“Not drunk yet, but getting there.” Art said, holding up her drink to show him.



==I’ll wait to acknowledge Black until Jensen does. Again, apologies for my tardiness!==

[Jennifer Braggins]

At the far end of the bar, four Starfleet Officers gathered around the archaic but proudly-mounted dartboard enjoying a lively but not overly rambunctious game of darts. On one team, Captain Braggins and her trusty Chief of the Boat (none would be so foolish as to say "sidekick") Jenna Bartlett. On the other team, two of the Runabout pilots assigned to DS9, both of whom Jenny had taught to fly. The two pilots, young hotshots both, were justifiably pleased with themselves as they were currently winning and not by a small margin. Jenny and Bartlett had turned the game into a working exercise, as they discussed personnel issues even while they played, Jenny's dress white tunic and undershirt draped over a nearby barstool as she played in her white pants and a plain white t-shirt.

She'd known whoever was assigned to her "inquiry" would be more than happy to rake her across the coals, so she had turned the tables on them. Arriving in full Dress Uniform, the Medal of Honor ribbon on her chest had required every officer in the room stand at attention when she arrived. Had it been petty? Childish? Petulant? Probably, but it had put the smug asshole Bowan on the back foot immediately, and she had deftly and succinctly answered all of the questions brought before her. Then she presented the orders from Starfleet Intelligence in her defence; it didn't absolve her of all the charges that had been laid against her, but it did mitigate them somewhat, especially given she had been successful.

"You want Kal-Geal as CMO? Are you nuts?"

Jenny smirked at the tone of Bartlett's voice, a smirk that disappeared as the dart left her left hand and buried itself in the largest 1-point section of the board. With a sigh, she shook her head as her opponents chuckled and took their spot ready to throw. Bartlett simply hid her face behind her hands as she looked upon the pile of credit chips with a forlorn expression, their chances of winning slipping away with every lousy throw the young Captain made.

"He's an excellent medic and handy to have in a fight. Plus, with Ragarri being redeployed to study the Kzinti reproductive crisis, I'm going to need a replacement."

"He's not even a Federation Citizen. This is because Captain Colso made a comment about the Philadelphia resembling a cattery, isn't it?"

"First, neither am I. Second, no. Well not entirely. The KDF have rescinded his position because he left the Yeager without orders; General B'Emir hinted that this was going to happen anyway, but I still feel responsible. I can offer him a field commission and if Command don't like it, they can suck it."

Bartlett shook her head slowly with a long, slow, sigh as she reached for her beer glass. It was, sadly, as empty as Jenny's own as their opponents threw their last dart to score their final points and win the game. With a good-natured smile Jenny pushed the credit chips toward the two younger men. A hand stopped hers, and the younger of the two men flashed a winning smile as he placed an empty beer mug on the table. It was a challenge - winner gets the pot and a free round. Jenny shrugged, one beer wasn't worth her time, but she grudgingly relented when the offer of two rounds was made - first one to hit the bullseye, ladies first as per the custom.

Stepping up to the mark, Jenny took a deep breath and readied the dart to throw. Bartlett stood back, arms folded, an amused smirk on her face.

"Are you going to throw lefty all night? You're right handed, you know."

Shrugging, Jenny switched the dart to her right hand, steadied herself, and threw. With a dull thud, the dart embedded itself in the bullseye, triggering the little red lights around the outside of the board. With a grin that wasn't quite smug, but also wasn't far off, Jenny turned to the two duly chastened pilots and passed the empty mugs into their waiting hands while Bartlett scooped the credit chips off the table.

She'd avoided a Court Martial, humbled a bumbling bureaucrat, and hustled two hotshots out of free drinks. It had been a good day.

==Darts, anyone?==

[Kal-Geal Beinn]

"How do you fare? Both of you?"

“I know I joined Starfleet, and I know I have superiors, but it’s so aggravating feeling like you’re not in charge of your own future.”

Kal-Geal decided to answer both questions with one answer,

"I can....sympathize. I was in a call with my clan back on San-Tarah after the debriefing. It seems the Klingon Empire is removing my people from being able to join their armed forces, until we can modernize ourselves to their satisfaction. Something about culture shock, and integration with Klingon culture. But I suspect it has something to do with the fact that we're stronger than the average Klingon."

Kal-Geal then pushed a glass of Klingon warnog to Jensen and added,

"Drink up Commander. We won our battle today, and to future battles, may we also be victorious."

Given the concept of peace was still new to Kal-Geal, he was still quite alert. But, he allowed himself a moment to relax, because the Federation knew peace, and so would he so long as he stayed with Star Fleet. Being a doctor taught him that concept, but understanding it was an entirely different matter that he didn't know yet.

==tag==

[T'Lari]

T'Lari entered Quark's with reluctance that she attempted to hide... badly. The last time she had been in a bar she'd broken the arm of an admiral's son. It had been the start of her career slide and resulted in a series of postings meant to humiliate her and drive her out of the service. And this bar was far louder and more boisterous than the last one.

Still, she needed to talk to Captain Braggins, and this is where the computer had said she was. The half-Vulcan had been released from arrest despite her obvious guilt. It seemed like Starfleet wanted little more than to sweep the whole ugly incident under the rug, and short of putting her in a penal colony there was little more they could do to her.

Quite a few of the Philadelphia crew were already here. She spotted Lieutenant Black and Kal-Geal Beinn, her comrade from the Yeager, and resolved to speak to both of them as soon as she was done talking to the Captain. Who was finishing a round of darts with a couple of officers she didn't know.

T'Lari approached Captain Braggins, wanting to get the matter out of the way and be gone from this place. She took a short breath, let it out, and then jumped straight in. The Tactical officer had a great deal of respect for the strange renegade captain and didn't want to leave matters unfinished between them before she was hustled off to whatever humiliating job Starfleet had in store for her. Weapons officer on a tugboat, perhaps?

"Captain Braggins? I do not wish to disturb you, but I wanted to offer you my apologies for being unwilling to obey your order on the Philadelphia."

== Tag Jenny ==

[Peter Jensen]

Peter listened as Beinn recounted how the Klingons were going to keep his people from joining the KDF.
Ostensibly for bureaucratic reasons; according to himself it was for reasons of feeling inferior to the children of San-Tarah - something which Peter doubted very much. If there was one thing Klingongs were not known for doing, it was feeling physically inferior to anyone else, even if it was the case.
He was definitely leaning towards the bureaucracy-reasons himself, as the most likely explanation.

But he wasn't going to point that out to Beinn.  Not now.

"Not drunk yet. But getting there", d'Tor'an responded to his question, and he grinned. He was about to raise his own beer when Beinn beat him to it and shoved a glass of Klingon warnog at him with a fond wish and a prayer. Peter took the glass gravely, raised it.

"Qapla'!", he responded, and downed the drink, definitely feeling....something about it. It was not something he was used to, but...it wasn't all too offensive. He put the glass down, and then heard another voice behind him.

Black

Peter didn't actively resent the woman, but he was definitely wary of her. Things had gotten heated on the bridge. Exceptionally heated. And he had thought he'd seen something in the woman's eyes which he had never seen in the eyes of another Starfleet personnel before, no matter how upset they'd been with him.
It was nothing he could prove, of course, and the situation had been exceptional, so even if he had wanted to make something of that, he couldn't.

But it definitely had changed his opinion on her, which hadn't been all that bad originally.

For now, though, he turned around and looked at her, seeing a fresh face beside her. He immediately gave the man a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

"Leftenant Commander Qi, I presume?", he asked, then continued introducing himself. "Peter Jensen, First Officer of the Philadelphia. Pleasure to meet you! Allow me to introduce", he took a step to the side, "Leftenant Artemis d'Tor'an, our Chief of Security, and Mr. Kal-Geal Beinn, graciously on loan to our medical staff from the KDF.", he finished the announcements.

[Arwen Qi]

The bar was a swirl of activity. As Qi followed Black and Papaver inside, a group of Caitians pushed past. Qi guessed that they were a band. The large one carried a contraption on his back that might have been an instrument. Besides, they had the right attitude.

A waiter approached Black with a proposition that Qi didn’t understand, but it seemed to rattle his new friend. Papaver excused herself, presumably to make sure that Black’s emphatic refusal was understood.

Black led him toward the bar, where Qi recognized Commander Jensen from his research on the Philadelphia’s crew. He appeared to be in good spirits, raising a glass of warnog high in the air.

“Excuse me, Commander.” Black said waiting for a natural break in the conversation. “I have Lieutenant Commander Qi, here. To speak with you.”

Qi might have imagined it, but there seemed to be some tension in her voice. Maybe it was related to whatever had happened on their last mission. Jensen spun around quickly and extended his hand toward Qi. Qi didn’t care for the human custom, but it was widely upheld in Starfleet. He gripped the commander’s hand and shook.

"Lieutenant Commander Qi, I presume?", he asked, then continued introducing himself. "Peter Jensen, First Officer of the Philadelphia. Pleasure to meet you! Allow me to introduce", he took a step to the side, "Lieutenant Artemis d'Tor'an, our Chief of Security, and Mr. Kal-Geal Beinn, graciously on loan to our medical staff from the KDF.", he finished the announcements.

He’s introducing me to the crew. I guess that means I still have a job, Qi thought. He waved at d’Tor’an and Beinn.

“Good to meet you, Commander. I’m looking forward to serving with you.” Qi slid onto a barstool. “I’m a bit out of the loop, but I understand that there may have been some complications with your last mission. My experience in Starfleet has taught me that things rarely go according to plan.”

He self-consciously rubbed below his ribcage, where the symbiont had been implanted. His time in Starfleet had left him with a lot.

“The best that you can hope for is a crew that you trust. I had that aboard the Geronimo. I hope to find that again with Captain Braggins and your crew. But first, I have an obligation to fulfill,” he said, flagging down the bartender. He ordered a round of a rather spicy Caitian liquor, and handed one of the glasses to Theresa. He saved the third glass for Papaver, whenever she returned.

== Tag Jensen/Black/all ==

[Theresa Black]

The Commander turned, and for a fleeting moment his gaze met hers. They had never got on with each other. From the moment she'd set foot on his bridge, she'd sensed his dislike from from the out.
The last mission when sides were taken. She had stood against him was likely the last straw metaphorically. Her own frustrations maybe having jaded her judgement somewhat.

There was no other acknowledgement from him, he'd already turned his attention to the new senior officer. Black took a slow step back to give them space while the two spoke.

In the noise and bustle of the bar, without her charge now, or her wingman, Maz glanced over to d'Tor'an who herself had sided with the Commander. She couldn't read the Klingon woman's expression. But it too could been one of mistrust.

Half a beat later, and she would have turned and left. But a small glass of something appeared in her hand. She sniffed it. It smelled... She didn't know what it smelled of. Spices? Herbs? It had a slight yellowish-green tint to it.

It was then that Papaver reappeared, and seeing that there was an unclaimed glass of the same thing for her, necked the drink in one. Then seeing that Black was still looking at hers said; “Nepata Tea. Think of it as Caitian Kombucha. Drink it quickly so it doesn't touch your tongue.”

Black looked at her briefly, raised the glass to Qi in thanks, and almost, knocked it back as instructed. The taste was not what she had expected. She seemed to loose the feeling in her throat almost instantly. It was a odd sensation.

“Told ya not to let it touch your tongue.” Said Papaver giving her a smile along with a hand on the shoulder. Then to everyone else. “Next rounds on me. Let's get this party started!”

This had been a cue to a nearby Ferengi waiter who Papaver had moments before slipped a little latinum to to crank up the music and get the lights down low.

== Tag all ==

[Jennifer Braggins]

Jenny had just finished collecting the darts from the board and putting them back in the holders when she heard footsteps behind her, even over the raucous noise of Quarks. Turning, she noticed T'Lari approaching and looking what looked to be a little nervous, a look she'd not seen on the Vulcan hybrid since they'd met. Jenny offered the young woman a small smile, remembering the times they'd had hunting pirates on the Yeager but also not quite able to forget that the other woman had refused her orders on the Philadelphia.

"Captain Braggins? I do not wish to disturb you, but I wanted to offer you my apologies for being unwilling to obey your order on the Philadelphia."

Not like a Vulcan to apologise, even when they are wrong...

For the briefest moment, Jenny wasn't quite sure how to react. T'Lari had come to her out of a seemingly genuine desire to bury the hatchet, when realistically it was Jenny who should have been apologizing; she'd dragged T'Lari into one of her schemes, and probably finished off her career in the process. With a sigh, Jenny reached for her drink and leaned against the wall.

"Honestly, if you'd agreed, we wouldn't be standing her talking now. My career is going down the toilet as quickly as Starfleet can flush me, it's probably for the best yours doesn't join it."

Draining what was left of her drink, Jenny placed the glass back on the table and shook her head.

"You did the right thing. You're a good officer, your new CO will be lucky to have you, wherever you end up."

As Jenny spoke, Jenny watched as the dejected-looking officer she'd just hustled wandered over with a tray of drinks, placed two beers on the table next to her, then went off in search of Bartlett with her own prize. Reaching for one of the glasses, Jenny shifted against the wall to get more comfortable.

"Have they told you where you're going? Command were pretty pissed but none of us got the boot, or sent to Starbase Eighty, so there's that."

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

“It seems the Klingon Empire is removing my people from being able to join their armed forces, until we can modernize ourselves to their satisfaction. Something about culture shock, and integration with Klingon culture. But I suspect it has something to do with the fact that we're stronger than the average Klingon.”

As Beinn spoke to Jensen, Art snorted into her beer. She suspected it had more to do with an average Klingon’s uncomfortability battling next to a giant, furry, sentient version of a pet, and not so much who had the largest… teeth.

Jensen took a nice swig of the drink he was proffered, and swung around to greet some more crew who had entered the bar. Art stole a glance over that way, and said a non-verbal hello, but wasn’t exactly moved to move.

“Let’s get this party started!” Someone loud and familiar yelled, and a Ferengi moved -begrudgingly, it seemed- to turn up the music, and turn down the lights. The bass thumped in her chest, and it did make Art smile, so she decided to not be mad about it. The drink, on the other hand, had to change.

“Next step up, please.” She ordered, finishing off her glass.

“Firewire?” asked the bartender, confirming if the officer wanted to stay with more of a smooth versus a carbonated taste.

Art thought for a moment, asking, “Unless you’ve got some good Saurian brandy back there?” She was pleased to see the odd-shaped bottle. When asked how many ‘shots’ she wanted, her response was, “At least a couple.” The Ferengi poured three and a half, and the Klingon seemed satisfied.

She took a sip and turned around to fully face the rest of the bar, scoping out who was there, and who was talking to whom. Black and Papaver seemed to be the ones heading up the good time.

[T'Lari]

"Honestly, if you'd agreed, we wouldn't be standing her talking now," Braggins said. "My career is going down the toilet as quickly as Starfleet can flush me, it's probably for the best yours doesn't join it."

"Thank you, Captain, but my career was already... in the toilet, as you put it, before I ever agreed to join you." T'Lari was genuinely puzzled by human slang sometimes, but she understood (and agreed with) Braggins' use of the term. "That wasn't why I chose to join you in your theft of the Yeager, though. I did so because it was logical, because Starfleet was utterly wrong in its decisions. If you hadn't done so the Cardassian ship would have escaped along with its hostages."

A Bajoran waitress came over and asked for a drink order. The half-Vulcan considered for a moment. "Green tea, please. Hot. No sugar."

Jenny drained her mug, then reached for another. T'Lari was impressed by the tiny woman's ability to hold her alcohol.

"You did the right thing. You're a good officer, your new CO will be lucky to have you, wherever you end up."

"Thank you, Captain," the Tactical officer replied with a slight nervousness.

"Have they told you where you're going?" Braggins asked. "Command were pretty pissed but none of us got the boot, or sent to Starbase Eighty, so there's that."

"No word yet. Perhaps I'll be returned to the Yeager," she said, a slight trace of bitterness slipping through despite her attempts to mask it.

The music and the loud environment weren't helping her often-precarious self control. As she did so often, T'Lari felt a sense of shame at her inability to control her emotions completely... itself an emotion, compounding her shame. Her grandfather had achieved Kolinahr. Why couldn't she master even the basics? Was it her Romulan blood? Her early upbringing? Likely both.

"Should they assign you to Captain another ship I would be gratified to serve under you," she said. Despite her refusal to follow the order to resist Starfleet Security she still admired Braggins. Likely the odd Captain would be given another assignment. She was too valuable an asset to Starfleet to imprison or assign to permanent desk duty. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Starfleet needed her.

== Tag Jenny ==

[Jennifer Braggins]

"No word yet. Perhaps I'll be returned to the Yeager."

The bitterness in the young half-Vulcan's voice was faint, but recognisable. Jenny had thoroughly enjoyed her time aboard that ship, getting to do things her own way, but she had known that for many of her crew it was not just a punishment, but an insult. There were ships in the fleet still using twenty or thirty year old technology, but they had been refined designs like the Sovereign, Nova and Defiant classes. The Yeager had never developed being a slapped-together mess of parts that had somehow worked, and had lagged behind in the quality of life upgrades that the line vessels had received - even the Philadelphia, the last Nova-class to be constructed, had received the latest firmware upgrades to bring her older technology in-line with the more modern designs.

Alas, a return to the Yeager was not likely for either of them. As part of the hearing, the ease with which the Yeager had been appropriated had sealed her fate; she was already on her way to a reclamation yard where anything useful would be stripped out, and then she'd return to Qualor II to be left to rot until someone broke her up for scrap and recycling. It was a tragic fate for a ship with such history, but those were the breaks, as the saying went.

"They're scrapping her. Too old, too expensive to upgrade, and too easy to steal. Command says she's a liability to keep in commission."

Which is a joke considering three years ago the near entirity of Starfleet was stolen by their own software...

Jenny's voice had a mournful edge to it; the Yeager hadn't been her first command, nor was it the finest ship she'd ever served on, but it had had character, and she'd learned to love it. Now it was gone, and her new command still lay in a construction slip at the bottom of the priority list. Maybe that was what Starfleet intended; keep her in limbo, force her to resign rather than kicking her out, and use the excuse that they'd had a command waiting for her as their excuse if anyone asked.

"Should they assign you to Captain another ship I would be gratified to serve under you."

Jenny smiled sadly and nodded.

"It'd be great to have you along. Allegedly they have something waiting for me at the Antares Fleet Yards, but she's not finished. I've not been given any details beyond that I'm supposed to fly out there tomorrow to oversee her completion. I imagine when that's done they'll hand her off to someone else. I never saw myself as a Yard Dog, but maybe that'll be a nice change of pace. Yellow not really my colour, though..."

[Theresa Black]

Black wasn't a big drinker. The Caitian concoction tasted vile. But she smiled as best she could, despite the after taste beginning to remind her of the proverbial litter tray.

Papaver had already managed to procure another round of blue coloured drinks that wasn't Romulan Ale, with an effervescent mist pouring off of them.

There were a few more familiar faces that began to appear. Some of the Philadelphia's crew that hadn't been already shipped off in to new assignments or exile. Or both. Just because the one way ticket to Starbase eighty hadn't arrived yet, didn't mean it wouldn't. But now was not the time to think about it.

The beat of the music reverberated as the deep base penetrated everything like polaron burst, and Maz considered booking an appointment tomorrow morning to get her hearing repaired along with a new liver if Papaver kept dolling out drinks.

Stepping around where the Commander and Qi were talking, she moved more toward d'Tor'an if only to say 'hi' out of courtesy, save having to try to shout it across the bar. No sooner had she made it to that side of the group, when a couple of platters of snacks began appearing on the bar.

== Anyone? ==

[T'Lari]

The news that the Yeager was being scrapped was not surprising to T'Lari. Starfleet was right... it was remarkably easy to steal. Braggins evidently had an attachment to the ship that the Tactical officer didn't share. Of course, her assignment to the ship (and the depot) had been out of petty revenge. She suspected the Captain had viewed their brief assignment on the old ship as an opportunity to be free of many of the rules that she evidently chafed under.

"It'd be great to have you along. Allegedly they have something waiting for me at the Antares Fleet Yards, but she's not finished. I've not been given any details beyond that I'm supposed to fly out there tomorrow to oversee her completion. I imagine when that's done they'll hand her off to someone else. I never saw myself as a Yard Dog, but maybe that'll be a nice change of pace. Yellow not really my colour, though..."

"Thank you, Captain," T'Lari replied. "Your confidence is appreciated. If a posting on your ship is available I would find it agreeable to serve under you again." At the very least such an assignment would prove interesting. Vulcans weren't supposed to feel boredom but T'Lari had fought against it constantly during her time manning the mothballed Yeager. And a new ship? The possibilities were intriguing, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a shakedown cruise. T'Lari allowed herself a bit of emotion... hope.

"I will leave you to your drink, Captain. Thank you for your time."

== Tag ==

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

As Artie sat and enjoyed her drinks (provided not-so-eagerly by the Ferengi bartender), she easily switched from firewine to Saurian brandy, back to Klingon bloodwine, and as she had told her First Officer, slowly was getting to the frame of mind she was aiming for.

Well. She thought, turning in her chair slowly as to not get dizzy, I’m more than buzzed now. Trying not to move her head too fast, she saw Lieutenant Black inch towards her, and Art hoped the woman didn’t want to talk. It was hard enough to keep herself seated on this chair. Normally, Klingons were known for their strong constitution, but considering Art did have Human DNA in and, and she had been throwing back the drinks pretty quickly…

The smell of food made Art turn around, though the bartender looked even unhappier to see her face, if that was at all possible. “Mini quiches?” She struggled to ask him. He answered her, though she wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying.

She took one, and turned to Black, proferring the treat. “Mini… quiches?” Asked the drink Klingon.


==Tag to Black!==

[Theresa Black]

d'Tor'an looked up at Black. Her expression ever so slightly glazed. “Mini… quiches?” she said holding up a pastry.

“Yes. I know.” Black responded automatically. No, thank you.” She added just as she noticed a tray of devilled egg vol-au-vents. “But I will have one or two of those.”

The music was a little loud, but she asked, “You alright?” with what she hoped the Klingon would take as a friendly enquiry.


== And, tag back ==